


I Never Want to Be (just a memory)

by SammysGirl666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Bottom Sam, Dean's Angst, M/M, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysGirl666/pseuds/SammysGirl666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've had nights alone before. But tonight's different, Sam can tell. Something about Dean is different.</p>
<p>Prompt: Weecest - nights alone without John (I took some liberties)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Never Want to Be (just a memory)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so the lovely drwtsn made fanart for this fic so I'm re-uploading it with the fanart included :D

 

**Nights Alone Without John by[drwtsn ](http://drwtsn.tumblr.com)**

This is the only time Sam feels at peace. It’s the only time he doesn’t dream about leaving or running away or something more gruesome. It’s the only time he feels like he doesn’t need to escape. And he loves his father, he does. But love just isn’t enough anymore. Obligation, duty, needing to do what John says because he says it…it isn’t enough anymore, not with them.

It barely is with Dean.

Still, Dean’s a lot harder to say no to. He’s a lot harder to walk away from…

But Sam doesn’t like to think about it, especially not when they get to have a rare night alone together. Sam wants to enjoy tonight because Dad might come back tomorrow and they’ll fall back into their same routine.

This is the only time that Sam feels happy. It’s the only time he gets Dean’s unconditional attention and, boy, does Dean have a lot of attention to give.

They’ve been on the bed for almost an hour, trading leisurely kisses and softly spoken words. Their hands wander every now and again, but they remain mostly above the waist. Dean likes to take his time when Dad’s not around and Sam likes to be doted on so it’s a win, win. Sam isn’t vain and he isn’t a narcissist. He could do just as good if Dean didn’t spend hours showering him with affection.

But Sam likes the attention and he isn’t about to refuse what’s freely given.

Dean moves to get off the bed and Sam pouts.

“Where are you going?” He asks, a bit petulantly.  Dean just rolls his eyes and smirks, walking over to his bag and rooting around in it. He comes back up with a camera. It’s a nice camera, something that Bobby gave to Dean a while back and is only used as a way to document the supernatural and, occasionally, to take family photos when they manage to catch a break every once in a great while.

Sam has no idea why Dean is getting it out now. Dean walks back over to Sam, but stays at the end of the bed. He takes the lens cap off the camera and adjusts the flash. Sam still isn’t sure what’s going on, though he feels it should be obvious.

“Look at me,” Dean says quietly.

“Dean—“

“Just look at me, Sammy.”

Sam does, can’t help but listen and his eyes find Dean’s. He stops wondering about the camera because Dean’s looking at him like he’s an oasis in the desert and there is so much overwhelming emotion in that stare that Sam loses his breath and tries his hardest to convey how he feels through his own gaze. The flash goes off and Sam blinks, shaking his head.

“Why’re you—“

“I wanna remember the way you look,” Dean says and there may be more to that than the older boy is letting on but Sam doesn’t call him out.

“You’re so cheesy,” Sam teases, with no real barb because he’s all mushy inside too.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean retorts. He crawls up the bed, camera in hand. He leans down to kiss Sam and Sam returns it eagerly, letting his brother devour his mouth. The flash and shutter of the camera go off again. Sam pulls away.

“What if dad develops the film?” Sam asks, only mildly worried as Dean nuzzles his neck.

“I’m gonna get it developed tomorrow before he gets back,” Dean assures. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He yanks off Sam’s shirt and catches Sam’s eye again. This time, it’s a more heated gaze that Sam returns and he isn’t really surprised when the flash and shutter of the camera goes off again. Dean tosses the camera aside after that and focuses on Sam’s body.

Together, they’re like water flowing. There isn’t any move that Sam can make that Dean doesn’t anticipate and vice versa. They make love like they spar, a perfect synch of movements, a rhythm they’ve built up in the back of their minds so that it comes across like second nature. Dean strips himself of his own clothes and digs some lube from his back pocket.

He takes a lot of time just rubbing Sam’s skin, feeling it under his hands and Sam doesn’t know why but he enjoys it, the hot feeling of his brother’s hands. They don’t usually do it like this. Dean’s a pretty “tab A into slot B” kinda guy. But there’s something different in the way Dean takes him tonight. It’s not hot and hard or fast. Even when his fingers find Sam’s hole, he takes his time stretching Sam open.

“Please just fuck me,” Sam begs when Dean works a third finger into him. Dean just shakes his head, moving slowly, taking his time, watching as his fingers disappear inside of Sam on every thrust of his hand.

“I remember the first time I looked at you,” Dean says quietly, voice low and warm, “and saw you in a way that I knew I wasn’t supposed to see my little brother.”

This is new. They don’t usually talk during sex. Dirty talk, sure, Dean’s got a mouth on him. But not this, not reminiscing, not memories or love stories. Sam’s confused but he likes this side of Dean. He’s never seen it before. Sure, Dean’s been tender before but not like this, not like Sam’s a treasure or something to be cherished.

“You were only fourteen,” Dean continues. “But you were a fine fourteen. You were all skinny, and long and your muscles were just starting to show and I remember lookin’ at you and thinkin’, ‘I wish he wasn’t my brother.’ And you just got better, stronger, taller…more…beautiful.”

Sam’s breathing catches because Dean’s taken his fingers out now. He feels the nudge of Dean’s lubed up cock at his entrance and he opens his legs wider but he doesn’t want to lose himself to the pleasure yet. He wants to hear what Dean’s saying because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to hear it again.

“You’re so beautiful, Sam,” Dean says, and his voice becomes gravelly as he slowly sinks into Sam’s body, inch by inch, “can’t wait to see you become a man.”

Sam wants to hear more but Dean seems to be done with whatever train of thought he was on and he starts to fuck Sam in earnest. But, even then, he moves differently. He rolls his hips, and they make much more eye contact than usual. Sam can’t breathe, he’s so full of Dean. He’s a livewire, beyond turned on by the gentleness that Dean is demonstrating. Sam didn’t know he would be so thrilled by vanilla sex but he is. He’s out of his mind with it, trying to pull Dean closer and closer.

They come together and, like the rest of the sex, it happens slowly. It builds up quietly and they hold onto each other as their releases overtake them. It isn’t the best orgasm Sam has ever had but he considers it somewhere in the top ten of the best sex they’ve ever had. And he doesn’t know why Dean’s acting this way until afterward, when they’re lying in the afterglow and Sam’s eyes are wandering around the room while curls into Dean’s body. He sees them then, the acceptance letters that he had stashed in the bottom of his duffle.

They’re sitting on top of bag and they’re badly crinkled. Sam’s whole body freezes and he snaps his head to look at Dean.

“Dean, I’m—“

Dean shushes him with a kiss. He’s obviously come to some resolution about all this.

“Sleep Sammy,” Dean orders in a whisper, “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Sam feels cold dread ice over his heart but, then again, Dean doesn’t seem angry or upset…resigned, is the word Sam would use. He sighs and he continues to look at Dean whose eyes are closed. He falls asleep like that, staring at his brother, wondering what’s going to come of tomorrow.

When Dean is sure Sam is asleep he moves quietly out of the bed and picks up the camera he had tossed aside. He walks back over the bed and brushes Sam’s hair out of his eyes before snapping another picture. He turns the camera on himself, gives a little half smile and snaps one last picture. He thinks about what Sam had asked him earlier, about why he was taking pictures.

_I want to remember the way you look._

_I want to remember the way you look at me._

_I want to remember the way you look at me before you leave._

_I want to remember the way you look at me before you leave, and start looking at someone else the same way._

He looks at Sam’s sleeping form and he’s hit with the same melancholy sadness that’s been plaguing him since he found those acceptance letters the other day. He walks to the bed and crawls in, setting the camera down on the bedside table. He curls around Sam’s body protectively. The truth is, he knows he’ll never forget Sam. That’s a given. He didn’t take the pictures because he’s afraid of forgetting Sam. He pulls Sam closer to him, buries his face into the lean neck of his little brother.

_I just don’t want to be forgotten, Sammy._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find and follow me at fucktoysam.tumblr.com to request prompts and to read lots of wincest smut!


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